


A Different Kind of Hunger

by jellyryans (ryankellycc)



Series: One Two Three, You and Me [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asahi's anxiety, Domestic Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Suga is somethin' else, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's double-date game night y'all, post-Over The Top, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/jellyryans
Summary: “I am supposed to be touched. I can’t wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?” ―Jenny Slate, Little Weirds
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi/Tanaka Ryuunosuke
Series: One Two Three, You and Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241273
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	A Different Kind of Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> “I am supposed to be touched. I can’t wait to find the person who will come into the kitchen just to smell my neck and get behind me and hug me and breathe me in and make me turn around and make me kiss his face and put my hands in his hair even with my soapy dishwater drips. I am a lovely woman. Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?” ― **Jenny Slate, Little Weirds**

Asahi watched the sink fill with trepidation that increased in tandem with the rising water level.

The gloves under the sink were too small for him, so he’d be going in without protection, and the pile of dishes in the dry side of the sink was so precariously balanced that he worried a single, stray draft would send them crashing to the tiled floor. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the physical discomfort that worried him. 

Dipping his fingers into the soapy dishwater would be only marginally worse than dipping into the thoughts that hopped through his mind like hyped-up bunnies. 

It didn’t take long for his thinking self to creep up and dig its claws into him, like an apex predator waiting for the moment he let his guard down while mindlessly circling a plate with a wet sponge and dragging him into the abyss of all of the thoughts he tried desperately not to entertain. 

Asahi’s face twisted into a pained grimace. Staring at the dishes instead of doing them would only prolong both the annoying chore and his suffering. 

He nodded to himself, a gesture that made him look more confident then he felt, and plunged his hands into the water. 

While his hands found their way through the sudsy abyss, his shirt pulled against his skin. The fabric was slightly stiffer where he had sweat through it earlier, and Asahi wondered if everyone else could smell it. The thought made him start to sweat again. 

Sweating wasn’t anything new; they had recorded for the better part of the day and he had yet to come away from a long recording session without releasing enough moisture to fill his mother’s watering can. 

He just wished he didn’t, like he wished he could get through one afternoon of recording without screwing up. 

It wasn’t like Suga and Daichi didn’t mess up. They stuttered and lost their train of thought and clapped to mark what they would have to edit out later. They simply handled it differently. If Suga made a joke that fell flat, he turned it around by joking about his lack of a joke. When Daichi couldn’t come up with something to say, he had a mental catalog of sighs and grumbles and interesting noises of displeasure on which to fall back. 

They were experienced enough, as entertainers, as podcast hosts, that resilience was a part of their repertoire. When they screwed up, they moved forward. 

_The show must go on!_

Even after years in the industry, Asahi still struggled. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t put in the work. He bought books about defusing his anxious thoughts, downloaded meditation apps, chatted with a counselor online, and kept a little card about mindfulness in his wallet. It was just that nothing stuck.

He read that humans didn’t have much control over their thoughts, that all they had to do was make room for them until they passed, but his fears and self-doubt surged through him like a stampede visible from space and trampled him into the dirt. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if their show would be better without him.

They’d be able to find a different co-host without issue. Maybe one that didn’t call off their recording sessions because they couldn’t unclench their jaw or had to take a shower half-way through.

He’d worked on other podcasts before, and he had ideas for other shows. He’d find something else to do and somewhere else to go. 

It was a simple, easy solution, but it hurt. _One, Two, Three_ was his favorite project, and he loved his friends.

Tanaka’s laughter boomed in his ear, startling him enough that the sponge slipped from his hand. The guy’s enthusiasm sliced through the thin walls of Daichi and Suga’s apartment. Suga’s boyfriend was still relatively new to hosting but his show was good, and Asahi liked him. He was funny, and deeply loyal, and good for Suga. _Suspiciously_ good. 

He wondered briefly what he’d said that made Daichi’s and Suga’s corresponding laughter carry to the kitchen. 

It was his turn to clean up, like it had been Suga’s turn the last time they had gotten together for something Suga had called “game night” and Daichi described as “a reckoning.” He wasn’t separated from the group for any reason other than his name popping up next on the list of shared responsibilities, but it felt natural for him to be one removed from the group, like they were freer to enjoy themselves when he wasn’t there. 

“Eep!”

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and Asahi dropped the bowl he’d been washing. It hit the water and splashed his sweat-stained shirt. 

A muffled “Sorry” came with a hot puff of breath on his back, and familiar hands clasped over his stomach. 

“You scared me,” Asahi said with a shaky exhale. 

Daichi tightened his grip on Asahi’s midsection, not enough to hurt but strong enough to pull himself flush against Asahi’s back. He rested his cheek against Asahi’s spine. “Well you’re a scaredy cat,” he teased.

There was no point in denying it, so he nodded and picked up the bowl he’d dropped, assuming that Daichi would let go. When he didn’t, Asahi shook his head with a small, unbidden smile tugging at his lips. “I’m trying to finish the dishes,” he said. 

“I know.” 

“You should go back.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Asahi bit his lip. “It’s probably more fun out there.”

“I’m good right here,” Daichi said petulantly. 

“If you’re sure,” Asahi, looking down at the droplets of dishwater that had already gotten on his shirt. The dark, wet stains were precariously close to Daichi’s hands. 

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Asahi tried to stem the rising tide of his smile, but the wave of embarrassment was no match for the solid warmth of Daichi’s body. 

“You were taking forever, leaving me alone with them, which was incredibly rude. I thought we’d be a united front now that we’re officially going out.”

Something heavy dropped into Asahi’s stomach. It felt like his heart. “Is that why you asked me out?”

“What?” 

Asahi’s brow furrowed, and, suddenly, he was glad he couldn’t see Daichi’s expression. “Nevermind,” he said hastily. 

“Well, since you brought it up, I’ll remind you, yet again, that I asked you out because I _like_ you.”

“Oh.” 

“Dummy,” Daichi said, nuzzling his nose into the back of Asahi’s shirt. “And I came out here because I missed you.”

The tension held at the base of Asahi’s neck broke, and relief cascading through his shoulders like water released from a dam. He leaned back against Daichi. “I’ll try to hurry then.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Washing the dishes took longer than expected, but the distractions were significantly more pleasant. Daichi hummed against his back, stringing together nonsensical patterns of notes, and blew heavy puffs of breath between his shoulder blades with the reluctant patience of a toddler who’d been promised ice cream.

But, instead of being hungry for ice cream, Daichi was hungry for _him_. 

He barely got the last dish settled in the drainer when he felt a tug at his waist. Asahi allowed Daichi to manhandle him until they faced each other. It was impossibly warm where their bodies touched, but the pounding of his heart had nothing to do with the temperature. 

He’d heard that humans couldn’t imagine something they didn’t already know, and Asahi found that to be true. He couldn’t have imagined that his racing heart would mean something wonderful was about to happen. 

Daichi pulled them closer together, and Asahi wouldn’t have been able to resist even if he’d realized he hadn’t washed and dried his hands yet. His hands came to Daichi’s cheeks like gravity pulled them, and his eyes went wide when he saw the droplets of dishwater on the backs of his hands. He ripped them away and looked in horror at the wet fingerprints he’d left on Daichi’s skin. 

“Oh my god,” he said at the same Daichi said, “Gross.” 

Asahi’s shoulders shrunk, and he tried to hide his hands but Daichi grabbed them and held on firmly until Asahi’s arms went limp. “That’s better,” Daichi said with a note of satisfaction. 

“Let me just wipe my hands off,” Asahi pleaded. 

Daichi let go but, before Asahi could turn to find a towel, he leaned into Asahi’s space. Asahi blinked in surprise at the intrusion and held onto the sides of Daichi’s shirt for purchase as Daichi reached around him for the kitchen towel. 

Of course, that meant more wet fingerprints. Daichi’s shirt was wrinkled where he’d held on and there were dark spots in the pattern of his fingers. He fell forward with a groan and buried his head in the crook of Daichi’s neck. “I did it again,” he mumbled unhappily.

“Then you probably don’t need the towel anymore,” Daichi said with a snort, leaning back.

Asahi averted his gaze, accepting that even his brown skin couldn’t hide the fierce blush that bloomed across his cheeks but not willing to risk Daichi’s reaction. He whimpered as Daichi’s thumb brushed against his chin and pouted when he tilted Asahi’s face towards his own.

Daichi’s eyes hadn’t changed when they started dating, but Asahi could now allow himself to _look_. 

From far away, his burnt umber irises looked almost black. Up close, the deep brown sparkled almost greenish, like they were flecked with obsidian. 

“Can you kiss me now?” Daichi asked, his voice reverent, like he was beseeching a god instead of a sweaty guy in a kitchen. 

Asahi blinked. “Really? Even though I just wiped dishwater all over you?” 

“That‘s it,” Daichi said. “I’ve been patient long enough.”

He lifted himself on his toes and, like the moon pulls the ocean, Asahi bowed to meet him. Daichi tasted like the wine they had with dinner, and Asahi smiled against his lips. He wiped his hand on his own shirt before cradling Daichi’s face and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. 

Daichi was the first to pull away. “Ready to go back?”

“Do we have to?” Asahi asked. 

It wasn’t meant to be a joke, but Asahi chuckled along with Daichi. ”Unfortunately. If I don’t kick Suga’s ass tonight, tomorrow is going to be hell.”

Asahi paled. “We’re editing tomorrow.”

“All day.” 

“Oh no.”

Daichi frowned. “Yup. _And_ tonight’s the night I’m going to catch him cheating.”

Asahi bit the inside of his cheek. Daichi could be intimidating, and he’d woken up in a cold sweat more than once thinking about the signature glower that meant they had work to do, but dating him made it difficult to take too seriously. Being terrified of someone was a challenge when you knew how adorable their bed head was. “I’ve never seen him cheat,” Asahi said. 

“Do you really think Suga is above cheating to get his way?” 

“Now that you mention it…”

“Let’s just get back in there,” Daichi said with a new sense of urgency. He grabbed Asahi’s hand and pulled him toward the living room. 

The volume of Tanaka’s surprised shriek when they entered the room warned them of what they were walking into, but they weren’t lucky enough to escape the view of Suga seated in Tanaka’s lap with his back facing the board. 

If it had been the other way around, Asahi couldn’t imagine being able to focus on _breathing_ , let alone some elaborate scheme just to cheat someone out of a friendly Go victory. 

Daichi, on the other hand, didn’t seem convinced. 

He stomped into the room and plopped himself down opposite the empty spot where Suga had been sitting before making a home between Tanaka’s legs. Asahi slipped in the spot next to Daichi. 

Suga made a show of untangling himself and reclaimed his vacant seat with a loud smack of his lips. He paused, then leaned across the table to sniff the air. Asahi sucked in a breath. “Someone smells like a sponge,” he said.

Daichi ignored him and gestured to the board. “Did you take one of my stones?”

Suga opened his mouth, but Tanaka was the one who spoke. “Suga, c’mon.”

They stared at each other for a full minute, then Suga heaved a dramatic sigh. Asahi caugh a few choice phrases as he muttered under his breath, like “no fun” and “buzzkill” while he rummaged around in his pocket. Eventually, he opened his palm to reveal a small round of black plastic. 

“Thank you,” Daichi said as he plucked the piece from Suga’s palm and placed it where it had been on the board. “See,” he said to Asahi. “Our co-host is a dirty cheat.”

“Hey now,” Tanaka said, his arm jutting out in Suga’s direction. Suga noticed the gesture with raised brows and winked at Daichi. “Let’s skip the name-callin’.”

“Bastard,” Daichi mumbled. 

“Maybe we should leave the game for tonight,” Asahi suggested nervously. 

“Better yet, we could play a _real_ game, like charades!” 

Tanaka smiled serenely, but everyone froze in place. Daichi had his finger pointed accusingly toward Suga, and Suga with his tongue out at Daichi. The blood drained from Asahi’s face. 

“Remember last time?” Tanaka continued with a toothy grin that bode well for no one. “Your fans would probably really like to see that video of the time you guys got into a fist-fight over how to act out a rainbow…”

“I’m sorry, Daichi!” Suga blurted. He bowed as low as he could while still remaining seated. 

“Nevermind that, it’s your turn,” Daichi responded. His breathing was suddenly very shallow. “Quick!”

Suga looked over the board, his eyes darting back and forth. “I’m going, I’m going!”

Tanaka maintained his perfect posture as he rocked on his butt with his ankles crossed, his hands on his knees, and a smug look on his face. He shot Asahi a thumbs up and mouthed, “I got your back.”

Laughter bubbled in Asahi’s throat and it spilled over, cascading in ringing peals until it subsided, leaving a smile on his face that would last the rest of the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this short and sweet birthday something for someone who is perhaps not short but definitely very, very sweet.


End file.
